Page 70 of A Beautifully Crafted Lie

THIRTY-FOUR

BRYNDIS ASHGLO

*For those who prefer a closed-door romance, it is best to skip this chapter. For you thirsty ladies, enjoy. *

There are many varieties of bonds, those bound in trauma, shared experiences, and understanding. There are bonds forged by desire and choice, and those existing by pure chance.

The Legends of The Forgotten, by Tibor Harper

Odhran is anything but gentle as he envelopes my wrists in one hand, pinning me to the cold, hard wall in his bedroom. He pauses, his breath heating my skin. Ligaments dance along his firmly set jaw as he looks down at me, waiting for gods knows what. War wages in his eyes, battling between chaos and control.

I’m anything but gentle as I lean forward, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth, raking my teeth over him as I pull back. His blood is rich and metallic in my mouth, and I like it. I like that I nicked his lip and broke his skin. I like that I get to pay him back for sinking his teeth into me. A small part of me still begs to punish him. He leans back so I can see his face. His body goes rigid, and something changes in his expression as he runs his tongue along the small cut on his bottom lip. He rolls his hips against mine, and I gasp at the feel of him. Finding pleasure in him is so carnal, so… forbidden. He’s as hard as steel beneath his training leathers. Knowing that he’s as affected by me as I’m affected by everything he says and does is… invigorating.

“Bryn, I want you so badly,” he groans, the sound of his voice low and guttural, vibrating from his chest pressing firmly against mine. His mouth is barely an inch from mine, his breath smelling of peppermint and him. I taste it on my tongue when I kiss him. Need builds inside of me, becoming an entity all to itself, a living, breathing thing I’ve never known before meeting this infuriating man. My moans blend with the sensation of his hardness rubbing between my thighs. Oh gods.

Our tongues perform an unchoreographed dance, stroking and licking as he moves against me. His strained breaths drive me mad with desire, and my body sings against his. I lock my ankles behind the small of his back, pulling him to me, and he groans in response. The sensation is enough to steal me of my senses completely, and I don’t care. Not when it feels so good to let go. Not when letting go means holding onto him.

“What are you doing to me?” he growls into the hollow of my neck. I angle my head to give him better access, craving more. Needing more. At this moment, I’d die for more. “Bryn. We have to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” I whisper breathlessly, trying to free my hands to touch him. He’s so much stronger, so much bigger. In his hold, I’m completely at his mercy, and he knows it. His shadows dance across my skin, stinging like droplets of ice.

“You don’t want this. You don’t want me. Not really.” He pulls back to look at me, to truly look at me, and sees entirely too much. Past my anger. Past my betrayal. To the core of my being, which would do anything to keep from being alone.

“Let me worry about what I do and don’t want.” The thick leather of my corset is too much, too restrictive, too suffocating. “Now shut up and get me out of these clothes.” Immediately, he unties the laces, moving as fast as he can, but still too slow.

“Bryn,” he cautions. Restraint and seriousness return to his expression despite his darkened eyes and parted lips. My breasts feel heavy when he drops the corset to the floor. My nipples are sensitive as they skim against his firm chest, but the thin material of my black tunic top and his tight-fitting armour and shirt still separates us.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” The rumble of his words set every nerve in my body on fire. Anger no longer burns through my veins, even though it should, even though I need it to, but it’s overthrown by pure and unfiltered desire.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” I punctuate every word as I nip his neck, following the soft line from his ear to his shoulder. He tenses. Like a statue, he remains unmoving until he lets out a groan so raw that my breath stumbles in my chest.

“You are an ache I can’t get over,” he hisses, ramming his hips against mine, riding me up the wall, and I whimper with pleasure. “A pain I can’t escape.” His grip tightens around my wrists, and I swear they’ll leave marks. “A blessing and a curse.” But I don’t care as long as he keeps moving. Keeps talking in that deep, sensual voice that renders me liquid in his hands. “The bane of my blight.”

“You are cruel.” I dig my nails into my palms, needing to ground myself. Odhran isn’t a boy, not an inexperienced youngster with no clue what to do. He’s all man, and he’s all mine, at least as long as I have my legs wrapped around him. “A monster.”

“My ultimate undoing,” he whispers.

“And you’re mine.”

He pauses, his eyes staring into mine. Odhran stills his movements, as does the erratic beat of my heart. Something in him shifts, the darkness in his eyes turning to desperation, and our mouths collide. Our lips move as one, our tongues savouring one another. We kiss as if our lives depend on it, and perhaps they do. Perhaps this moment is all we need, all I need to escape from my reality and everything it holds.

His fingers tangle in my top, pulling on the thin material to find the seam at the bottom. My heart leaps into the sky, soaring with eagles, then flies even higher when his hand slips beneath the material separating us. His hands are rough against my skin when he cups my breast, flexing those strong, calloused fingers against me as his thumb skims my nipple, and I moan into his mouth, stars flashing behind my eyes.

“I want you.” His voice is ragged against my lips. “You have no fucking idea how badly I want you.” He releases my wrists to grab my ass, squeezing firmly as he looks down at his other hand, palming my breast beneath my top.

My hips grind against his when he stops moving. Need rushes through me like a flash flood, and my legs clench around him. A soft whimper escapes me when his thumb flicks my already beaded nipple.

“What do you want, Bryn?” he asks again, as if he never heard my answer the first time. My breathing hitches when I meet his gaze with heavy-lidded eyes.

“You.” I gasp as he rolls my nipple between his fingers.

“And how do you want me?” A challenge is apparent in his tone.

“On your knees.” This is lust. It’s all it will ever be. He’s my weakness. His touch is my addiction. “And to escape.”

“An escape?” His words are a sensual purr against my skin as he leans a mere hair’s breadth from my neck and the vein pulsing frantically along its side.

“One only you can give me,” I whisper, my core tingling as I realise what I’m asking. For him to make me come.